


Skies Grew Darker

by leviosaphoenix



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3350087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leviosaphoenix/pseuds/leviosaphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things were finally starting to look like they might work out between Oliver and Felicity… and then the unthinkable happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skies Grew Darker

**Author's Note:**

> Based on spoilers and speculation about upcoming episode(s). Title and lyrics from This Love by Taylor Swift. Endless thanks to anightingale who is just as responsible for this pain as I am.

_In silent screams  
_ _In wildest dreams  
_ _I never dreamed of this_  

For the first time since coming back from the dead, Oliver feels lighter.

The iron vice on his heart has loosened somewhat, and things are slowly getting back to where they should be. Dig and Lyla had had a perfect wedding, unmarred by vigilante business. Despite attending with Palmer as a date, Felicity had agreed to a dance with Oliver, and it marked the first time they’d touched since she’d hugged him the night he returned.

After the reception, Dig had asked that Team Arrow join the happy couple for a private drink before sending them and their daughter off on their three-day honeymoon. Roy, Thea, and Laurel had stuck around for a while before making their various excuses, leaving Oliver with a chance to talk, really talk to Felicity. She’d already forgiven him for agreeing to work alongside Merlyn, understanding that protecting Thea was his priority, regardless of the methods necessary. It was comfortable, familiar to fall back into their usual banter, talking about almost anything that crossed their minds, though they carefully avoided topics surrounding their relationship.

She’d driven them back to the lair so he could change into his Arrow gear, but her car had failed to start in the lot. He gave her one of his spare sweatshirts to keep her warm and took her home on the motorbike, diligently ignoring her arms around his waist and the hem of her red dress rising higher on her leg. He’d wished her goodnight with a careful smile and she’d given him a little wave of her fingers and laughed slightly.

“Do you think this will ever, you know, not be awkward?”

“I hope so,” he’d answered, and watched as she let herself in.

So, he feels lighter as he drives away, headed for the Glades to patrol for a while. Things have been quiet since the last of Count Vertigo’s thugs were locked up, but even the presence of Arrow, Arsenal, and Canary in the streets at night is proving an efficient deterrent.

No more than ten minutes pass before he hears a click in his earpiece.

“A 911 call just came in from the general store on the corner of 22nd and Marigold,” Roy informs him.

Oliver frowns. “I just left that area.”

“It could be nothing. Emergency services are already on their way.”

“All the same, I’m closer. I’ll check it out,” Oliver concedes, making a turn at the next intersection and heading back.

* * *

 Mint chip ice cream.

That’s what she needs to process the events of the day. Her thoughts are a tangled mess where it comes to Oliver, but she needs to do some serious thinking with the help of mint chip, and of course, JD, Turk, and Elliot – her mom gave her the _Scrubs_ box set for Hanukkah.

Her freezer is, unfortunately, empty, seeing as she’d churned through her stash after Oliver came back. She takes a minute to throw on a pair of jeans and her favourite sweater, blue with tiny giraffes on it, and then zips Oliver’s sweatshirt over the top. She tells herself it’s because it was right there and it’s cold outside, but she knows she does it because his smell still lingers in the fabric.

It’s a two-minute walk to the store on the corner, and she spends it thinking about how Oliver had looked at her when she’d arrived at the wedding in the stunning red dress she’d picked out with him in mind, before his disappearance. She’d told Ray under no uncertain terms that she was only bringing him as a friend, and as she’d confessed to Dig, partially to make Oliver jealous.

The guy at the counter recognizes her and smiles as she pays for her treat, tossing in a packet of gum at no extra charge despite her protests.

“Thanks, Hari.”

“No problem, Felicity. Have a good night.”

She rounds the corner, looking down as she tucks her change into her pocket.

“Felicity Smoak?”

A woman with dark red hair steps out in front of her, tilting her head curiously.

“I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Not yet, but I’ve been looking forward to this for a very long time.”

The dim light from the streetlamp casts her face into sharp relief as she steps forward, lifting her bow and notching a red-tipped arrow.

“Carrie Cutter,” Felicity breathes, fear flooding through her.

Carrie smiles, looking almost pleasant, friendly.

“Don’t scream,” she warns, conversationally. “I may have been locked up for months, but believe me when I say my aim hasn’t suffered at all.”

“What are you doing here?” Felicity asked, struggling to keep her voice calm. She felt in her pockets for her phone, but of course, she’d left it at home, thinking she’d only be gone five minutes and wouldn’t need it.

“Looking for you, of course. I escaped from A.R.G.U.S. after overhearing your name in connection with the Arrow’s. You know, I had a lot of time to think about what he said to me. I figured it out – there was somebody else he cared for, somebody he couldn’t be with. And then I heard your name and everything just… clicked.”

“How did you find me?”

“You think your base of operations underneath Verdant is so secret? I waited outside, but you arrived with _him_ … I didn’t see his face, but I know that walk, that build. You both left on his motorcycle, and I saw the way you held him, the way he looked at you, and I knew for sure.”

“You’re delusional,” Felicity spits, losing her temper.

“So people keep trying to tell me. The Arrow loves _me_ , Felicity. You’ll see.”

As Carrie draws the bowstring back, Felicity takes her chance and swings her bag of ice cream as a weapon. Carrie’s too quick, though, and with two swift arrows, the plastic is torn open and a pointed red heart embeds itself in Felicity’s arm. She cries out, clutching at it as blood spills over her fingertips.

“See?” Carrie shrieks, victoriously. “This is why I am the right match for the Arrow. He could never belong with somebody so unable to defend herself.”

“You can’t kill me now, Carrie. Don’t you want him to see? Don’t you want him to know it was you?” Felicity tries, through gritted teeth and a haze of pain.

Carrie laughs, lightly. “He’ll know.”

The bow lifts in slow motion, and a sharp twinge in her leg brings her to her knees.

“He’s never going to love you,” Felicity manages to gasp, and she sees the rage touch Carrie’s eyes before she looses three more arrows in quick succession.

She thinks she hears Oliver call her name, and then everything goes black.

* * *

 

He sees the dark figure standing over another and speeds up, frowning when he sees the bow. Sure, the weapon has become more popular because of him, but it still never bodes well when arrows are involved.

The assailant fires three arrows and disappears, and as the victim falls sideways, he sees the blonde hair and the flash of the silver piercing and everything in him goes numb.

A gut-wrenching, awful roar echoes around him, and he barely registers it as her name, torn from his own throat. The shop assistant kneels there first, but Oliver’s eyes are wild as he collapses beside her limp form, the dark stain blossoming on her – _his_ – sweatshirt.

He becomes aware of Roy shouting in his earpiece.

“Call an ambulance,” Oliver mutters, hoarsely.

“They’re on their way. Oliver, what-”

“Tell them to be faster!” He clicks off the earpiece and holds out his hand to the shop attendant. “Give me your jacket.”

The man – Hari, his badge says – complies instantly, looking anxious. “I saw the woman with the bow on the security camera and called 911; I should have tried to… I should have-”

“Apply pressure here,” Oliver demands fiercely.

His leather gloves have gone red with blood and he feels at her throat for a pulse, leaving scarlet spots on her pale, flawless skin.

“Roy,” he shouts desperately into his comm again. “Where are they?”

“A minute out,” Roy says, sounding shaky. “Is she… do you think she…”

Sirens approach and Oliver slips his gloves off and gently lifts her head into his lap, gently brushing her hair aside and touching his fingertips to her cheek. His vision blurs and he mumbles her name brokenly. The ambulance arrives, along with a police car, and the moment of stillness passes.

“Arrow, get out of there,” Roy warns.

“I’m not leaving her!” he snarls, suddenly aware of the tears flooding down his face. He leans protectively over her as the paramedics try to speak to him.

“Sir, you have to move; let us take her to the hospital…”

Sometimes he wishes he had not been trained to be so observant – he sees the dark look pass between the paramedics at the amount of blood spreading slowly across the cement, creeping like a sinister predator. They load her onto a stretcher and before they can stop him, he climbs in the ambulance beside her, holding her hand. Blessedly, the police barely give him a second look.

He mutters nonsense at her, still through the modulator, as the paramedic begins to intubate and try to cut her out of her clothing. Of all the awful things Oliver has seen and endured, this is the worst, and he fights the urge to be sick.

The ride to the hospital seems long, too long, and the ER doctors, to their credit, barely bat an eyelid at the Arrow in full vigilante get-up accompanying a critically injured patient. They try to stop him following them into surgery, but all it takes is one menacing look and they drop their hands.

“Felicity,” he begs. “Please, hold on. You’re going to be fine. It’s going to be okay. I love you, Felicity.”

Her pulse slows further on the machine as he pleads with her to stay with him, promises her anything it takes.

The high-pitched whine slices into him, and he looks desperately at the monitor, praying to be wrong.

“Charging…” one of the doctors calls, and somebody grabs his hand, pulling him away from Felicity’s. “Clear.”

Her body lurches, and they collectively hold their breaths as they watch the machine, but the defibrillator seems to have no effect.

“Again!” Oliver demands, and they oblige, but again, nothing.

The doctors trade anxious glances, and one of them steps toward him.

“Sir, please…”

“She will _not_ die, do you hear me? She _can’t_. She is not done fighting.”

A stronger arm grabs his elbow as they charge the defibrillator again, and that’s all that keeps him from collapsing as the monitor bleats weakly, signaling Felicity’s pulse coming back. Oliver looks up to see Roy, also in his vigilante leathers, clutching a large cooler and handing it to one of the nurses.

“It’s her blood,” he growls, under the voice modulator. “Thought you might need it.”

It takes three people to drag Oliver out of the room, convincing him it’s better for Felicity that the doctors can concentrate without him breathing down their necks. Lance guards the two vigilantes, who sit side by side in stoic silence, but his anxiety is evident in the way he paces the corridor – he’s grown to care for her, too.

An hour passes with no news. Dig arrives, looking frantic, and Oliver staggers to his feet again.

“I was just with her, John. I shouldn’t have left her. I couldn’t protect her…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It _is_ my fault. It was my fault she got brought into this.”

“She doesn’t regret it, you know that. She’s going to be fine, Arrow,” Dig stumbles on the pseudonym a little, “your girl’s a fighter. You know that.”

The hours pass, and the faintest tinge of peach begins to tint the night sky. It’s almost a sign, as the head of surgery emerges from the room to be faced by two vigilantes, the chief of police, and a huge guy in a tux.

“She pulled through,” the doctor says immediately, and she looks encouraged by their sighs of relief. “It was close, and she’s not out of the woods yet – we need to monitor her closely until she starts to improve.”

“Can I…” Oliver croaks. “Can I see her?” Even without the voice modulator, his voice is unrecognizable.

“Briefly,” the doctor concedes, after a moment of thought. “But just you, for the moment.”

“Thank you,” Oliver manages to wheeze, as Roy claps him on the back in an awkward gesture of comfort.

“You saved my daughter last year, the night of the siege,” she tells him. “It’s the least I can do.”

It’s a strange sight, the vigilante in green, peppered with dried blood, standing guard over the tiny blonde in the hospital bed. More cautiously than he has ever moved in his life, he leans over, caressing her cheek and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I love you,” he breathes into her hair, and he watches as her chest rises and falls with the help of the ventilator, reassuring himself that she is still alive, that her heart still beats.

“It’s a bit intimidating, having all of you here,” the doctor murmurs to Lance as they wait in the hallway. “She must be something special.”

“That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one,” he says, gruffly, but there’s emotion underlining his tone.

Oliver appears in the doorway, lowering his hood, and Lance doesn’t even bother trying to feign surprise.

“Queen, get out of here, take a shower, and get some regular clothes. We’ve kept knowledge of the vigilante’s involvement to a limited few, so your identity is safe, at least for now.”

“I can’t leave her,” he protests.

“I’ll stay with her, man,” Dig assures him. “Go to my place; it’s closer. You can take thirty minutes to clean yourself up. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Oliver near-sleepwalks to Diggle’s apartment, with Roy’s help. Lyla greets them at the door, Sara on her hip, red-eyed and anxious for news. Sara claps her hands and reaches for Oliver, and he softens slightly with the baby in his arms, brushing his bristly cheek against hers and smiling as she giggles.

Roy elects to nap and babysit, so Lyla drives Oliver back to the hospital once he’s dressed. He looks calmer, and only _slightly_ hurries to the private room in the ICU where Felicity’s been set up.

“She’s improving,” Dig informs him. “They’re optimistic.”

Lyla and Diggle embrace, and Oliver cringes.

“I’m sorry. You were on your honeymoon.”

“Don’t, Oliver. She’s family; you both are,” Lyla insists. “There is nowhere we would rather be right now.”

They talk in hushed tones, and with each passing update from the nurses that Felicity’s vitals were better, Oliver begins to look more and more like himself.

“We’ve taken her off the sedative keeping her under,” the doctor tells them around midday. “You can sit with her, but it could be a while before she wakes up.”

Lyla’s phone buzzes, and she quickly excuses herself as the boys walk into the room, taking their posts either side of Felicity’s bed.

“I won’t survive this again, John,” Oliver says, exhaling. “I won’t survive losing her.”

“I know.”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Love somebody and raise a child without being crippled by the fear something will happen to them, with what we do?”

Diggle frowns in thought. “I accept that one day the time is going to come when something will separate me from the people I care about, so I make the time we _do_ have count. I love them completely and without restraint, and I do my damn best to protect them with everything I have.”

“I couldn’t protect her from this.”

“You saved her life. Seems like you did a half-decent job from where I’m standing,” Diggle smiles knowingly. He’s about to say something else when Lyla appears in the doorway, looking relieved.

“Waller sends her apologies,” she sighs. “They’ve caught Carrie and she’ll be on the next A.R.G.U.S. transport to Europe, where they’re planning to experiment with some memory-altering technology on her. She assures us it won’t happen again.”

Oliver sits as he absorbs the news, his body finally overcome by the events of the past twenty-four hours. With Felicity alive and Carrie in custody, he’s too grateful to crave his own revenge against the latter. He holds Felicity’s hand, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, and drifts off to sleep.

* * *

 

It takes another day for Felicity to wake up, but the doctors assure him that it’s not a sign of things to come.

“Her body needs the rest. Her vitals are stronger every time we check them. It’s best to be patient,” one of the nurses tells him.

He doesn’t leave her side, politely turning his back when the nurses come to turn her in bed to prevent sores on her skin. And, finally, as he quietly promises her any new technology he can get his hands on, the corners of her lips turn slightly upward.

“Felicity?” he asks, daring to take her hand.

Her fingers squeeze his once, and then her eyes flicker open, and it’s like coming home from the island all over again and realizing the demons that lurk in the cloud above his head have no place in Starling.

The breathing tube prevents her from speaking, but he’s loved her long enough to read her face like an open book. He clears his throat.

“Felicity, the next time you feel a craving for ice cream in the middle of the night, please call me first.”

She coughs slightly, and he recognizes it as a laugh.

“I’ll call the nurse in a minute, but I’m going to take advantage of your silence right now, because you need to hear this.” He took a deep breath, noting the worry creeping into her gaze. “I have faced a lot of things, many of which you could never even imagine, but I’ve never been more scared in my life than I was two days ago. I’m a coward, Felicity, and I’ve been terrified of losing you, but I don’t want to let that fear govern me any longer. You make me a better person, and I need you by my side in _everything_ we do,” he says, pointedly referring to their nightly activities.

She squeezes his hand again, and he takes that as his cue to continue.

“I love you, and if you’ll have me, I want to spend the rest of our lives showing you exactly how much.”

Confessing his feelings to her while she was unable to talk had seemed like a good idea in theory, but now he’s placed his heart in her hands and all he knows is that she is crying.

A nurse shows up in the doorway, tentatively interrupting them to say that the doctor will be arriving any minute. Felicity squeezes Oliver’s hand one more time before the nurse gently asks him to wait outside.

It seems like he’s waiting hours, but finally the door opens and he almost bursts back inside in his desperation to see her. She’s sitting up in bed, smiling, even though her eyes betray the pain she feels from her injuries.

“Oliver,” she croaks, and he swoops to her side, anxiously.

And there, in the ICU with an ugly hospital gown and dried blood in her hair, she finally says it back.

“I love you, too.”

_This love is good, this love is bad_  
 _This love is alive back from the dead_  
 _These hands had to let it go free  
_ _And this love came back to me_

**Author's Note:**

> We started working on this when the spoilers came out about Felicity being in hospital/a main character flatlining... not sure about the legitimacy of this but it set Jess and me off on our headcanon rollercoaster. My medical knowledge is limited (sorry for inaccuracies). I will shortly be posting another fic involving Olicity and an ambulance, but it's much, much lighter, so hopefully that may ease the sting of this angst for you. Happy Valentine's Day!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Celebrity Status](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3351407) by [leviosaphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leviosaphoenix/pseuds/leviosaphoenix)




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